Sherlock See's Cloaks
by NELLA123
Summary: The master detective Sherlock Holmes, and his equally talented partner John Watson, happen upon the biggest secret of modern time. After noticing a series of odd occurrences... too odd to be mere coincidence.
1. Chapter 1

Forty-Seven, Sherlock Holmes thought to himself. That's forty-seven different individuals he spotted that were dressed in cloaks. Sherlock Holmes may, as John likes to put it, lack all sense of normalcy but he learned over the years that this was most definitely an odd occurrence. This oddity has plagued his mind all day long since he spotted the first cloaked figure.

"That is a case for another time, Sherlock." he whispered to him as his place in line got closer to the front. He was currently in line at a Auto repair shop. This particular store was a front for a mob operation. Last night a shipment of luxury cars, from Italy, were stolen from the docks. Normally a case like this was too, for lack of a better word, boring for Sherlock to undertake. But it was something about the way Mycroft spoke that lead him to believe that there was something more to this case than he was told. What, he did not know but would find out in time. He always did.

"Hello, may I help you?" The desk worker asked.

"Yes." Sherlock replied matching the man's Russian accent perfectly. "I'm here to find out about a new "Shipment" that came through last night."

"Shipment, I have no idea what you're talking about." He lying, the corner of his mouth and eyes twitch. "Please leave from here."

"The thing is i'm not here to ask about the cars you stole." Sherlock said, leaning closer. "My boss is actually more interested in what's inside ONE of them." he finished.

"Inside?" The Russian man replied.

"Oh yes. You see whats inside one of them is very- lets just say accident prone. And my boss and I would be very pleased if it didn't fell into the "right" hands, if you catch my drift." Sherlock eyed the man. He could tell that he had no idea that there was anything in the cars that he stole, to be fair neither did Sherlock but the odds were in his favor, but he was buying what Sherlock was selling.

"I'm sorry sir. No stolen cars here." The man replied after a moments pause.

"Well I guess I have the wrong address then." Sherlock said, before turning and walking out of the store to where John waited across the street.

They where two blocks away from the auto shop, when John finally decided to ask how it went because it was becoming clear that Sherlock wasn't going too.

"We have them in Check, my dear Watson. All we have to do is wait and they will lead us right to the luxar- Forty-Eight."

"Sorry?" John asked puzzled "Forty-Eight what?

"John, I think I might be going crazy." Sherlock said. He ignored John's rude comments, as he watch yet another cloaked figure. He watched as this cloak man went inside an old London phone booth and put the receiver to his ear. All without paying the proper coinage.

"Odd." John asked a question to try and figure out what, but Sherlock just let his finger answer for him.

"So, what it's a nutter in a cloak. It's London mate." Sherlock took this time to inform his colleague this was the Forty-eighth person today he saw donning a cloak. "Like I said, London." Both of the men were now intently watching the man in the booth. John out of pure boredom but Sherlock was looking for...for... more. More than he was suppose to see, for more that was there. As he watched he saw the impossible happen. One second the man was there, just standing in the booth and the next gone. Poof. Like magic.

"What?" John said, rubbing his eyes because clearly they were lying to him. "Did you just see that?"

Sherlock had a smile on his face. A real one, not one of the fake one's he learned to put on for John, Mycroft or Mrs. Hudson. No, Sherlock hadn't felt this kind of genuine excitement in a long time. Certainly not since the triple homicide last spring.

"John, my friend, I think we just happened upon some thing huge."

And with that They took off toward the old London phone booth.


	2. Chapter 2

"It's completely normal." John said putting the phone receiver to his ear, there wasn't even a dial tone "Phone doesn't even work, it's disconnected."

Sherlock was down on his hands and knees examining the glass. From there he went to inspecting the floor, half expecting there to be a hidden panel of some sort. "How did you do it?" Sherlock said frustrated.

Sherlock was completely at a lost for words. In his mind was countless information, information that even some of the worlds greatest minds didn't know and none of it was of use to him right now. Every practical reasoning he came to was shot down by himself.

"Come on John." Sherlock said walking away.

"What, is that it?" John asked.

"Yes." When Sherlock noticed that john was about to protest he continued with "What would you like me to do John? I can't stay preoccupied with this no matter how much its eating me up inside. We have work to do, unless you forgot!"

They reached their flat, where Sherlock rushed straight to his bedroom. Pulling out draw after draw, tossing over covers looking for his drug of choice- Heroin. At the mention of the word all of the horrible side-effects flashed before his eyes but so did the way it made him feel.

"John!" Sherlock yelled in anger. John entered his room and quickly did a double take. "Where is it?"

"Where what is?" John asked innocently.

"You know what i'm talking about you were in here- don't try to deny it. My floor is scuffed, scuffed floors drive me insane that is why I have my shoes custom made to prevent them. Yours are not, that is why the floor in the living is in the state that it's in."

John made himself as tall as he could "Yeah I was in here. And yes I took the heroin from your draw. So?"

"So?" Sherlock said, eyeing John. "Give it to me!"

"No, Sherlock I will not." John said standing his ground. He had made a promise to himself that he wouldn't give in to him.

"John what are you doing huh? You think just because you've hidden it somewhere in this house I wont find it? Its you were talking about! Give me an hour and I would have uncover it."

"An hour?" John said "I'll give you the location now. It's in the new safe in my room and don't try to decipher the code. I don't even know it, payed a random bloke to set a new one after I put the drugs inside."

"John." Sherlock said softly. "Listen to me I need it. I'm... I'm addicted to the stuff."

John said nothing to the man. It wasn't true, Sherlock wasn't addicted. John Watson has been a doctor for well over a decade now, he knew addiction when he saw it. But he was becoming increasingly more dependent on the substance that is why John finally decided to put a stop to it. Sherlock let out a yell before grabbing his violin, strumming the strings.

Now back in his own room, John was going to go to sleep.

Waking up to Sherlock Holmes hovering over you would send anyone into shock. "Sherlock, what are you doing? I hope you aren't trying to break into my safe!"

"Oh John!" Sherlock said, smiling "I broke into that half an hour ago." John quickly turned his head in the direction of the safe and true to his words there is was, opened.

After calming John down and assuring him that he actually threw away the heroin himself, Sherlock went into why he'd woken him in the first place. The mobsters were on the move, moving the stolen cars and they needed to be there when the police caught them.

"Why do we have to be there, again?" John said, while in the taxi on the way to the bust. "Why not let the police take care of it."

"I suspect that one of the cars has some device in it, I want to be there in person when they find the cars so I can inspect the- Cabbie, STOP!" The driver slammed the brakes. Sherlock threw the money at the cabbie before rushing out the car, John following behind him. He pushed past the people on the street trying to follow the cloaked man- holding an caged owl- he had seen from the taxi.


	3. Chapter 3

The Sleeping Goblin was a small London pub with a relevantly low hanging ceiling. Sherlock and John were seated in a corner booth in the back that smelled of mold but still kept the man at the bar clearly insight. He had taken off his cloak, wearing now a handmade pullover with a large letter on it. The owl cage occupied the space next to him.

"Sherlock." John whispered to him.

"Watson." he said back.

"What are we doing here? What about the cars?" John asked him. It was a shame really, that he would not know what was in the cars that had gotten Mycroft so worked up but he had a nagging feeling he had to get to the bottom of this.

"Ever heard the saying choose which hill you want to die on?"Sherlock asked. John shook his head, no. "Well i'm maybe using it slightly wrong but the main point still stands. We could either have been here or at the docks but not both."

And you chose here, John thought to himself.

A hunched back old man made his way over to their table with a pen and pad. "What can I get for ya?"

"Whatever's good." John told the man.

Good, Sherlock thought, he noticed too. It had taken him a while to notice but based on the smell coming from the various mugs around him whatever they drank here wasn't alcohol. Sherlock told the bar keep he'll have the same as John. "Alright, two fire-whiskeys coming up. That'll be a knot a piece."

John looked at the man liked he just grown an extra head.

"Oh dear, it seems we've forgot our money." Sherlock said patting himself down. "Do you mind if we start a tab?" He just left them muttering something about degenerates and people needing to get a job.

"What the hell in a Knot?" Sherlock just shrugged his shoulders. "I don't like this place at all. We should leave. Before something-" He was interrupted by the bar keep coming back with two mugs filled to the brim with a strange orange liquid. Neither of them made to drink it. "Before something bad happens." John finished in a low voice.

Sherlock was going to say something back but was distracted by the pub's door opening. A petite women with a head of brown bushy hair came through the threshold followed closely by a rather short man with jet hair. Both made their way to the man at the bar. They exchanged hugs and a word or two before the man donned his cloak again, picked up his cage and they left the building.

Sherlock waited a couple of seconds before he got up from his seat.

The air was cold, the woman and the two men was standing closer to the street as they walked out bar.

Sherlock and John made their way to the left of them. Sherlock turned his back on them and faced John. He raised his eyebrow at him.

The three of them stood around talked about mundane things, every now and then their conversation was spiced with words he nor john understood. John's boredom was clear on his face.

Suddenly thy walked off and they followed closely behind. They walked at a moderate pace. The petite woman looked their way but didn't seem to expect walked for a while, stopping to look at some shop displays or lingering to try various foods that lined the street.

Sherlock leaned against a store wall as the women lead the men into a women's clothing store.

"What are we doing?" John asked "Are we just going to follow three strangers all night?" The frustration was in his voice. Sherlock too was starting to grow impatient.

"Only for a little while longer." Sherlock promised his friend. John mumbled but said nothing, he leaned off the wall as the three reappeared on the street.

They started off down the street again. A couple of blocks away they walked into dark park.

John stopped holding Sherlock back. "Sherlock enough."

"John we-"

"No!" He whispered "Enough we followed them for blocks. Its late i'm going home." John turned and begin too walk away.

"John!" Sherlock yelled lowly at his back.

John didn't even stop. "I'm going home, Holmes. Do what you want." Sherlock sighed and began to walk his way but he stopped. He looked back over his shoulder at the entrance to the park.

He still had that nagging feeling in him. He turned and walked into the park.

Wheres you sense of adventure, John?

The park was small. From the entrance you could see the exit. There was no one insight. I missed them, Sherlock thought as he walked around.

"Why are you following us?" Said a womanly voice behind him. Sherlock turned around slowly.

She was flanked on the left and right by the two men. All three holding something slim in their hands.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't following you. I come to this park every so often to think."

"Lair." She said "You followed us for blocks." A bright white light left the thing in her hand in waves. "Where is the man you were with?"

"What are you?" Sherlock asked.

The three of them looked at him shocked. "You're a muggle?" The dark haired man said.

"Whats a mugg-"

"Obliviate." A small light green mist flew from the women's stick.

As it hit him his world went dark.

Sherlock awoke in his bed, his head was pounding. He could feel his clothes still on him. Sitting up proved to be a bad idea as his head started to pound more furiously. What the hell did he do last night. He tried to recall but for the life of him he couldn't remember. Flashes of brown, black and red kept flashing before his mind eyes.

Sherlock left his room and found John in the living-room reading the paper. "Morning." John said very loudly.

Sherlock held his head in pain.

"Ah, you're head hurt." John said smiling.

"Yes. I would appropriate if you kept you voice low. " Sherlock said sitting on the sofa across from him. "What did I do last night?"

"You tell me. After i left you, you just come walking in here early in the morning reeking of alcohol." Sherlock rubbed his eyes. Reeking of alcohol. None of this was making sense.

"John?"

"Sherlock?"

"Did we ever find out where the cars were?"


	4. Chapter 4

"Obliviate."

The tall man fell to the ground, hard. "Bloody hell Hermione!" Ron cried "No need to kill the bloke."

"Oh shut up Ronald." Hermione knelt beside the him, she was able to get a good look him. His face was long but not in an awkward way. Handsome even. Black curls sat atop his head, his steel grey eyes were open staring, unfocused. "He's fine."

"If he was really following us we should search him." Harry said going threw the man's coat pocket, which proved to be empty. Ron dug threw his trouser pockets coming up with a muggle mobile phone and his wallet. "One mister Sherlock Holmes, at least according to this anyway." Ron threw the wallet over his shoulder. He was about to do the same to the phone but Hermione snatched it from him.

"Lets try not to break all his things Ronald. What do you think is going to happen when he wakes up and he's messing all his things."

"You wiped his memory. He won't be thinking anything."

Hermione took a breath. "I didn't put much overt power into the spell. If he's nothing more than a muggle I didn't want to do permanent damage to his brain. It should be okay but memory is a fickle thing. It can tell when its been altered and it can try to fix itself. Normally in the form of flashes or headaches. It only gets worst for us if he keeps wondering where his things are after he had too much to drink."

"Too much to drink?" Ron asked.

"Yes too much to drink." Hermione said. Ron looked at her confused before he caught on. "Oh."

"So if you don't mind can you please find his wallet."

When his belongings back in there rightful place, she tapped her wand to his chest. Immediately, he shot up. "Who are you!" he said scared.

"Sshhhhh." Hermione said, tapping his forehead with her wand.

"Who are you?" He asked again, but much calmer this time.

"We're nobody, okay? You never saw us understand?" He nodded. "Good now you're going to a pub, not The Sleeping Goblin in fact you're never to step foot in there again, and you're going to get drunk?"

"Drunk?"

"Smashed mate." Harry corrected and with that mister Holmes staggered out of the park.

The golden trio remained in the park for a few minutes before returning to the streets of muggle London. The sun was starting to set, as it rested on the horizon it sent out rays of pink and some reason it made her feel better. Hermione grabbed Ron's hand linking their fingers. He looked at her and smiled. She loved that smile, it stretched from ear to ear and it reached all the way to his eyes. Harry made some puking gestures but they ignored him. "How's Gin?" Ron asked him.

Harry and Ginny moved in together a couple of weeks ago. To say Mrs Weasley wasn't pleased would be an understatement. "No daughter of mine is just going to go off and move in with some boy!" she raged "No offense harry dear." It made her smile just thinking about it. Apparently it was okay for her and Ron, who were very much involved , to live at the borrow together. But her only daughter, forget about it.

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets "She's been sick lately. Some type of flu I wanted to send her to Mungo's but you now how see is and you can guess what happened."

"Night on the sofa huh?"

"Yep."

They laughed about that all the way back the his flat. It was small and made out of a reddish brick with a brown door. From the door was a hall that branched off to two different rooms on the right and left. The Kitchen and living room respectively. They made their way to the living room it was a nice room with cream walls with one love-seat against a wall and another on the wall to the right of it. Her and Ron took one and Harry the other.

"Ginny!" Harry called upstairs.

"Mate, this sofa is hard as steel." Ron said as he bounced up and down trying to soften the sofa.

"Ronald."

"Jean." The use of her middle name earned him a swat to the chest. They talked amongst themselves for a while.

"I'm going to go check on Gin." Harry said making his way upstairs. The old wooden stairs squeaked with every step he took. Their bedroom door squeaked as well. Hermione could hear the faint clicking of Harry's boots on the wood floor of their bed room.

Slow at first but they quickly gained in pace. The slamming of the door rang throughout the house.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled.

She heard him run from room to room. She then heard him running down the steps. Both her and Ron jumped off the love-seat the meet him there. "Harry!"

They meet him half way up the stairs. Swear ran down his forehead.

"She's gone!"


	5. Chapter 5

The footsteps stopped right outside her door, the small wicket slid open to reveal a set beady gray eyes. Ginny averted her eyes and crawled to the corner of the cell.

The doctor closed the wicket. She heard him search for the door key amongst the big ring she knew he kept at his side.

With a click and a soft push the door opened. The doctor was a small man with a hunched back and a cleft jaw. She did her best to not look at it. Quick to anger, this doctor was. "Hello dear." His voice was sweet but she knew better then to believe that. Six days had passed since they took her.

"Look at you. Would my sweet like a change of clothes?" Ginny wore a moth ridden bathrobe, that stank of urine and faeces. There was no bathroom in her cell. She nodded no. Answer yes and he's likely to put me in a straight jacket.

He walked closer into the room and Ginny held herself tighter. "Stand." he commanded.

And so she did. "Take off the robe." She did that too. He looked at her stomach for a long time, it made her feel disgusting but she endured it. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." The doctor held her chin and turned her head until she was facing him "Fine."

"Fine?" he asked with raised eyebrow. "No food aversion, nausea, light bleeding... frequent urination?"

Her heart caught in her throat. No he can't know! "NO."

He gave her a look of pure loathing "Stupid girl, if we wanted to harm it we would just kill you. You may put your clothes back on." He said and turned to walk away "I'll be with a potion and a change of clothes."


	6. Chapter 6

"Here you go sweetie." the waitress said as she placed his cup of coffee in front of him. John muttered something about if he wanted to make it Irish, a statement which he ignored completely.

"You're so oblivious." John said after a sip of his tea. "A pretty waitress is all smiles and you do nothing mate."

In fact Sherlock did notice - he noticed everything. He was well aware that the vast majority of people thought he was an unfeeling emotionless man but that wasn't true. Sherlock wasn't like most people but when it came to love he felt just like everyone else. And the waitress was beautiful and he immediately took note of her interest in him but he also noticed the gentlemen with his hair tied into a bun, who stared at them every time she even walked near them. "She's a waitress that's just what they do."

In Sherlock's pocket his phone began to ring "Hello." It was Mycroft. Sherlock listened and made appropriate noises when expected as he once again raved and demanded too much of him. Sherlock hung up and dropped the phone on the tabletop. It bounced and made a soft thump. _Never a dull moment._ "Who was that?"

"My brother, wanting what he always wants. For me to save him from whatever embarrassment he's' gotten himself into now." Sherlock caught eyes with the waitress, and subsequently with the man behind the counter, and waved her over to her table.

"Can I get you something else?" she asked with a smile on her face. They paid for their respective drinks and caught a taxi to Mycroft's office. His office was three doors on the right once you exited the elevator, Sherlock and John stopped outside his door.

Sherlock and John took a collective sigh before he turned the knob. Mycroft was seated in his overpriced armchair behind his overpriced desk like normal, with his hands intertwined in front of him deep in thought, what caught Sherlock's attention was the man staring out the tall windows he too seemingly deep in thought. He was dressed in robes of various shades of purple which made the darkness of his skin pop bright.

No one said a word as John and himself sat in the two chairs opposite Mycroft. _He's been up for a while...him too._

"So?" John offered after the silence became unbearable. Mycroft sat back in his chair, rubbed his puffy eyes, sighed and said "There's been an abduction in central London."

John was surprised "When did this happen yeah?" There hadn't been any word of an abduction on the news.

"Six days ago."

"And we're just hearing about this now, six days. That's mad!"

"Who is she?" Sherlock asked the man at the window before Mycroft could respond. At first it seemed that he didn't hear him but the silence made him turn toward them.

"How do you know it's a woman?" His brother asked, it always drove him mad that Sherlock seemed to know more than he had any business knowing.

"Lucky guess." he said smiling at his brother "Who is she?" he asked the dark skinned man again.

"She's a girl of 20 years with red hair."

"Of that I don't doubt... but who is she?" he asked again. "Like John said it's been six days, and not a word from the press? Not a word. There's no way you would be coming to us if she was just some random women."

No one missed the way the two men looked at each other. Mycroft was about to lie "I refuse your offer. Come on Watson." Sherlock said as he got up and made for the door but before he could make it through the door he heard "Wait!" the man in the robes called. _There we go._ Sherlock turned and faced him, staring at the lone tear making his way down his cheek "She's a friend."

Now that's more like it. "I'm listening." Sherlock said but didn't move from the door. Again the two of them looked at each other, after a while the stranger nodded his head, obviously giving his brother permission for something, before turning back toward the window.

His brother signed loudly and buried his head in his hands before quickly looking up at them and yelling "Oui, won't you two seat back down already. Christ sake." They both did as was told, eager to get to the bottom of whatever this really was. "This gentleman here is Mr. Shacklebolt. He's international, here to help the ministry oversee various covert operations - And that all you need to know Sherlock- the girl is a daughter of a friend of Mr. Shacklebolt. Her parents sent her to Britain for Uni. She comes from a very wealthy family, a family who hand their arms in lots of pies around the world. I trust you can understand why they would want to keep this whole thing as quiet as possible."

"Hence the six days." Sherlock said eyeing his brother.

"Hence the six days." Mycroft said.

Sherlock turned to Mr. Shacklebolt " I don't know what you want me to do?" he told him honestly "I'm not sure what you expect me to find that no one else hasn't by now."

"I've heard about you Mr. Holmes." Shacklebolt said, turning to face him. "The things you've been able to accomplish, the cases you've been able to solve. Amazing. Some in my community even go as far as to say you have a gift."

"And what gift might this be?"

"It's been called a third eye, the ability to see what can't be seen, what others simply ignore."

"More of a curse really." John muttered.

"Some Believe that to be true too." Shacklebolt replied rather cryptically. The room fell into silence for a long time. His interest was perked enough Sherlock decided before standing and heading toward the door.

"Sherlock." Mycroft yelled after him.

"Send me the address Brother."


End file.
